Vengeance is Mine
by CaroH
Summary: Aramis receives some devastating news.
1. Chapter 1

This story is set shortly after Friends and Enemies. I am new to this fandom although not to writing fan fiction. I haven't seen all the episodes of The Musketeers yet nor have I had the chance to read many of the stories. Hopefully this particular plotline hasn't been done before. After suffering with writer's block for months it is wonderful to find a new source of inspiration.

**Vengeance is Mine**

**Chapter One**

Athos knocked once before entering Treville's study. The Captain was sitting behind his desk, a sheet of parchment held loosely between thumb and forefinger. Shadows mantled the room. It was past time for the candles to be lit yet no effort had been made to drive away the gathering darkness.

"You asked to see me, Captain?" Athos noted the slumped shoulders and deep lines furrowing Treville's brow. He waited for a response until the prolonged silence became uncomfortable. "Is something wrong?"

Treville looked at him for the first time, appearing almost startled to find that he wasn't alone. "Read this."

Athos took the paper and walked closer to the window to catch the fading light. He quickly scanned the words, caught his breath and read a second time. When he'd finished he ignored protocol and sat heavily in the nearest chair. "Does he know?" Immediately he shook his head and answered his own question. "You haven't told him. He wouldn't be downstairs sparring with d'Artagnan if you had. He'd be looking for someone to kill."

"It might be better to burn the letter and say nothing." Treville poured brandy into two glasses.

"Aramis would never forgive us." Athos drank deeply even though he knew the fiery liquor would do nothing to blunt the edge of his mingled sorrow and anger. It would take far more than one glass to grant him the oblivion he craved. "Let me tell him."

"I'm his captain. It's my duty," Treville responded without any enthusiasm.

"I'm his friend. It will be better coming from me."

"Don't let him do anything foolish," Treville warned.

Athos' smile was as bleak as his mood. "He will undoubtedly do something extremely foolish but Porthos and I will be there to stop him doing anything fatal."

"And d'Artagnan?"

Athos considered that. "He's hot-headed and recklessly brave. Since he arrived in Paris he's stuck with us like a lost puppy. I don't think we'll be able to stop him."

"Take care of our young Gascon, Athos. He will make a fine musketeer one day, if he lives long enough to be commissioned."

Athos nodded curtly, rolled up the parchment and slid it inside his leather jacket for safekeeping. When he stepped outside he lingered on the balcony watching his friends in the yard below. Aramis and d'Artagnan continued to practice their swordsmanship while Porthos sat on a bench calling out encouraging comments.

D'Artagnan was holding his own against the more experienced soldier although he was breathing heavily. He fought with passion causing Athos to wish fleetingly that he could still find joy in the swordplay that had become instead a brutal necessity. He could see the raw talent that, with time and nurturing, would make d'Artagnan almost invincible.

"Of course what I really wanted to do was enter the Church," Aramis said.

D'Artagnan's feet faltered and he had to step back hurriedly to parry a sudden flurry of strokes. "You? All you've done since I met you is drink, fight and fornicate and now you tell me you wanted to be a priest?"

"Not a priest," Aramis said, pressing his advantage. "Priests don't have any fun." His sword moved with elegance and speed causing his opponent to continue to retreat.

"What did I tell you?" Porthos called.

After disengaging d'Artagnan looked questioningly at the older man. He thought for a minute before groaning. "Don't let yourself be distracted." He glowered at Aramis. "You lied to throw me off balance."

"It's no lie," Athos said before walking down to join his comrades. ""You wouldn't think it to look at him but Aramis is deeply religious."

Aramis grinned and slid the sword back into its scabbard. "I'm also thirsty. Let us find a tavern. Porthos can pay. He won at cards last night."

"Did you cheat," d'Artagnan asked Porthos.

"Yes," he admitted cheerfully. "And this time I didn't get caught."

Immediately after opening the tavern door Aramis' senses were overwhelmed. He entered the crowded room wearing a broad grin, happy to be free of the pretension and politics of the Court. The smell of spilled ale, cheap wine and unwashed bodies was preferable to the overpowering perfumes used by the nobility to mask their natural odors.

The buzz of conversation and laughter died down while the patrons assessed the newcomers for potential threats. One man sidled toward the rear door, trying to make himself inconspicuous. A tavern wench approached Aramis, swaying her hips and displaying a smile that was intended to be inviting. He caught her around the waist and pulled her close.

"Want some company, handsome?" she asked.

She was a red-head, plump and pretty. Aramis had no doubt that she was also pox-ridden but he still returned her smile. "Maybe later. My friends and I are thirsty. Bring us some ale."

"You're not tempted, are you?" Porthos asked after the girl had left them.

"Not at all. However, it pays to remember, my good Porthos, that even whores have feelings."

"Huh," Porthos grunted. "I'll get us a table." After scanning the room he went to intimidate a group of merchants into relinquishing their table. It didn't take much, involving nothing more than standing beside them with his hand on his sword.

Aramis sat and stretched lazily. "It's getting boring around here. We haven't had a fight with the Red Guard for weeks and no-one's trying to kill us or the king."

"I'm sure Captain Treville can find you something to do," Porthos said. "What do you think, Athos?"

Aramis had often struggled to tell what Athos was thinking during those times when Athos was sober. He was startled to see uncertainty on his friend's face. A feeling of foreboding settled over him like a shroud. "Athos?"

"I need to speak to Aramis. Will you two excuse us?"

Aramis clamped a hand on Porthos' arm. "You don't need to leave and neither does d'Artagnan."

"It would be better…" Athos began.

"They stay," Aramis said forcefully. "What's wrong?"

Athos bowed his head, breaking eye contact. The red-head brought four pots of ale. Athos grabbed one and drained it. After swiping his hand across his mouth he gave a deep sigh. "It's about Adele."

"What about her," Aramis asked.

"When did you last see her?"

"The day we met d'Artagnan. I had to leave through her window because the Cardinal arrived unexpectedly. As I recall you and Porthos found that very amusing. Why?"

"She left Paris and…" Athos' voice trailed away.

"She went to the Cardinal's country estate," Aramis said without his usual confidence. He'd never been sure if that was the truth and the return of his pistol had set off alarm bells.

"Adele didn't make it that far," Athos said quietly.

Aramis found that he was standing although he didn't remember moving. His heart hammered. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"She's dead. I'm sorry, Aramis."

He stared at his friend before shaking his head. "You're wrong." He turned to leave while struggling to breathe through the weight that had settled on his chest.

"Where are you going?" Athos was also on his feet and barring the way to the door.

"Her house."

Athos pulled a letter from his jacket and held it out. "She's gone, Aramis."

He couldn't gather his wits enough to read and part of him didn't want to. His only wish was to hold onto the belief that he would see her again even if it was just an illusion. He crumpled up the paper and dropped it on the table. "How did she die?"

"A single shot to the back of the head. It was an execution."

Mind-numbing grief drowned under an onslaught of murderous fury. "Richelieu!" He pushed past Athos with only one aim in mind.

"Where's he going?" Porthos asked.

"I fear he's gone to kill the Cardinal," Athos said. "I think we'd better go and stop him."

Tbc


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the reviews, alerts and favorites. I hope you enjoy the next chapter. The backstory for Adele and Aramis comes from my imagination.

**Vengeance is Mine**

**Chapter Two**

During the short time they'd been inside the rain had started accompanied by a biting wind. It didn't deter any of them from their mission to find Aramis and use any means necessary to stop him confronting the Cardinal. To their surprise they found him no more than twenty yards from the tavern. He had his back to them with his head bowed and shoulders slumped while drops of water bounced from the brim of his hat. His entire demeanor was of a man who had suffered a devastating loss and was struggling to cope.

"I'll talk to him," Athos said in a tone that made it clear the issue wasn't open for debate.

D'Artagnan hung back with Porthos unsure what exactly was happening. In the short time he'd known the Musketeers he had come to expect that Aramis would always display a passionate enjoyment of life whatever the circumstances. To see his friend looking so vulnerable was a shock. It also brought back the unpleasant memory of his father's murder. It had been on a night much like this one that his father had been shot and died in his arms while he watched helplessly. He could understand the burning need for revenge when a loved one was lost to a senseless act of violence.

The downpour quickly plastered down his hair while cold water snuck under his collar and trickled down his back. He shivered, pushed the sodden strands away from his eyes and returned to the meagre shelter provided by the tavern's eaves. "Who is Adele?"

"Adele Bessatt is…was the favorite mistress of Cardinal Richelieu. She was a dancer when he met her. He had her tutored in the ways of a lady and set her up in a house. She was his property."

D'Artagnan added that to the small amount of information in his possession. It was hardly unusual for a rich and powerful man to keep mistresses. However, they didn't usually die young with a bullet to the brain. "Aramis was also her lover?" he asked.

Porthos nodded. "He knew her before she met the Cardinal. Even though the risks were huge they continued their relationship."

"How could he have been so stupid?" D'Artagnan asked. "The Cardinal's the most powerful man in France. He could have had Aramis killed at any time if he'd found out."

Porthos raised an eyebrow. "Are you telling me you've never done anything stupid when it comes to a woman?"

Heat invaded D'Artagnan's cheeks. Given the opportunity he would embark enthusiastically upon a forbidden affair with Constance Bonacieux, a married woman with an unsullied reputation. "You have a point," he said ruefully.

"Besides, Aramis isn't that easy to kill."

"Which is why the Cardinal killed the woman instead." It made sense. Richelieu's pride would have demanded some form of revenge for the humiliation and betrayal.

"He won't have pulled the trigger. His murders are more subtle. One of his Red Guard will have done the killing for him."

"What will Aramis do?" D'Artagnan peered through the rain to find that Aramis hadn't moved from his position in the middle of the street. Athos appeared to be talking earnestly but without eliciting any reaction.

A horseman swerved around Aramis sending a vicious stream of abuse toward the unresponsive Musketeer. Athos took a couple of steps away from his friend. Even without touching his sword he was formidable. The rider left hurriedly, his horse kicking up gouts of mud.

"Aramis deals with problems with actions rather than words. He won't care about the repercussions. Our best hope is that Athos can get through to him and make him think first."

"What are the chances that he'll listen?"

"No better than fifty-fifty and that's being generous."

TMTMTM

"It's my fault she's dead," Aramis said, his voice dull and flat. "If I'd stayed away from her she'd still be alive."

"You don't know that."

Aramis turned his head to look at his friend. "I left my pistol in her bedroom the day I had to leave quickly to avoid the Cardinal. When her maid returned it to me a few days later it had been fired. I thought she'd had someone discharge it because she didn't want a loaded weapon in the house. Do you think it was the gun they used to kill her?" The pieces of the puzzle had slowly and painfully fallen into place for him. The Cardinal must have found the weapon and realized Adele had another lover. Somehow he'd learnt the identity of its owner and used it to mete out his own sadistic brand of punishment. "Why didn't he come after me?" he asked plaintively.

"There's no crime in sleeping with another man's mistress. He couldn't go to the King or Treville without admitting that he wasn't capable of controlling a woman. Besides he can't afford to look weak and sharing his mistress with a lowly Musketeer would make him the target of a lot of malicious gossip. He chose to punish her because any direct attack on you would have failed, which would have made his position worse."

Aramis' tightly wound nerves made him tremble. He knew that confronting the Cardinal head-on would be suicidal for him and also his friends. They would never let him go alone and he had no urge to be the reason for their deaths. Even so, the thought that Richelieu would get away with killing an innocent young woman left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"If we're going to find a way to make the Cardinal pay we need evidence," Athos said reasonably, intuitively knowing what Aramis was thinking.

"What good would that do? The King isn't going to order the execution of his First Minister even if we present him with witnesses. He certainly isn't going to act to avenge a woman with no family and no position at Court."

"Then we have to find something more damning." Athos laid his arm across Aramis' shoulders. "We have much to discuss but do you think we could continue somewhere drier?"

Aramis frowned and looked around for the first time. "I…I didn't notice it was raining," he admitted. Tipping his face up to the sky allowed moisture to settle on his skin and mask the tears gathering in his eyes.

"You need wine," Athos said. "A lot of wine. Tonight you grieve. Tomorrow we start to make our plans."

TMTMTM

Aramis opened one eye, groaned and rolled onto his stomach to bury his face in the pillow. The sudden movement unsettled his stomach. He stumbled from the bed to vomit in a bucket that appeared to have been left close by for that purpose.

"How do you feel?"

Aramis flopped down on the mattress and glared at Athos. "How much did I drink last night?"

Athos held out a pitcher of water. "A prodigious amount. You were singing very loud and maudlin songs when we brought you back to the barracks."

After sitting up and drinking Aramis poured the rest over his head. It didn't help. "I want to kill Richelieu," he said.

"I know."

Aramis sighed and searched under the bed for his boots. "My weapons?"

"With Porthos for safekeeping."

Irritation helped to clear his head. "That's not necessary. Do I look like I'm going to go charging off to the Palace and challenge the Cardinal to a duel?"

"Of course not. That would be illegal and you'd end up in jail. Although that might be the safest place for you," Athos said, thoughtfully.

Aramis scowled and put on his coat, wrapping the blue sash around his waist. He had only a fragmented memory of the previous evening. Questions were lining up in his head which might or might not have already been answered. He headed for the door ignoring the sour coating on his tongue and vaguely rebellious stomach. "I want my weapons back and then we're going to talk."

He left the barracks and strode into the yard, more or less steadily he was pleased to note. It was still early with the air smelling fresh as it sometimes did after a storm. Porthos was cleaning his pistol and d'Artagnan was carefully oiling the blade of his sword. They looked up from their labors apprehensively.

"Sword." Aramis held out his hand.

Porthos looked beyond him to Athos and waited for their leader to respond.

"He seems to be in control," Athos said.

Porthos nodded and lifted Aramis' sword belt from the bench. After buckling it in place Aramis accepted his pistol and knife. His musket lay on the table, clean and ready for use.

"What happens now?" d'Artagnan asked.

"The first thing we do is bring her home," Aramis said. "Do you know where she is, Athos?"

"The church at Moret-sur-Loing," Athos replied. "The letter that you refused to read came from the priest to Captain Treville."

"That doesn't make sense," Aramis said. "Why would he write to Treville and how did the Captain know to pass on the information to me?"

"It seems your relationship was known. Captain Treville was asked to pass on the news with compassion. The only way to find out more is to go to Moret-sur-Loing and ask." Athos looked at each of his companions in turn, noting their grim resolve. "Treville has given us a forty-eight hour pass. We shouldn't waste it."

TMTMTM

The village of Moret-sur-Loing was less than half a day's ride from Paris. It looked tantalizingly familiar to Aramis but the memory wouldn't rise to the surface. They walked their horses through the bustling streets, making a detour around the market that had been set up in the square. The sun shone and the villagers laughed and talked, clearly content with their lives. Aramis felt detached not just from the peasants but also from his friends. The journey had given him time to think and he had reached the point where he had convinced himself that he and Adele could have been happy if the Cardinal hadn't interfered. He dismissed the thought that he would never be content to live a quiet and ordinary life.

"You're brooding," Porthos said. "That's Athos' job. I can't handle two of you brooding at the same time."

There was no rebuttal from Athos who looked grim-faced and determined. "This is the church," he said.

The stone building was situated close to the river which sparkled in the afternoon light. Ducks and geese floated placidly along in the water, untroubled by the concerns of the soldiers who had come to disturb their peaceful routines. The village lay just on the edge of the Fontainebleau forest, a favored hunting ground for the King. However, Aramis had never been here with Louis. This wasn't the kind of place the monarch and his courtiers would visit. They might like to play at living a simple rustic life in their silks and satins with servants surrounding them, but the reality was only ever ignored.

"Monsieur Aramis."

Aramis turned in response to the shout. The small hunch-shouldered man approaching them wore a black cassock, the hem dragging in the mud. His skin was as brown and wrinkled as a walnut suggesting years spent outside in the sun. Despite his age his eyes shone with vitality and the lines on his face showed that he smiled often.

The memory broke through. "Father Nicolas."

"You look well, my son. Better than the last time you were here."

"What happened last time?" Athos asked.

"I was carrying despatches for the King," Aramis explained. "Three men ambushed me."

"Only three?" Porthos asked. "That was careless of someone."

Aramis inclined his head in acknowledgment of the compliment. "I killed them but was injured in the fight. I got as far as this village and Father Nicolas tended my wounds."

"He developed a fever and came close to death," the priest said. "I sent word to Captain Treville who brought a wagon to take him home. I'm surprised you remember who I am. You were either unconscious or delirious the whole time."

"I remember you, Father."

"You're the one who wrote to the Captain," Athos said. "How did you know to send word for Aramis?"

"That's another story that would best be told with a bottle of wine."

"I want to see her," Aramis said.

"I recommend against it, Aramis. The bullet caused a lot of damage to her face and she lay in the woods for several weeks before we found her."

"That doesn't matter," Aramis said staunchly. "She deserves to have someone mourn her passing. His beliefs gave him a measure of comfort that Adele was in a better place but it wasn't right that she should die without a remembrance of her life.

"Very well," Father Nicolas said reluctantly. "Follow me."

Tbc


	3. Chapter 3

Although the descriptions are not terribly graphic I think a warning is appropriate. Thank you for your continued support for this story.

**Vengeance is Mine**

**Chapter Three**

Aramis followed Father Nicolas into the small church. He dipped his fingers into the font of holy water before genuflecting. The large Easter candle stood unlit although other candles close to the altar table glowed softly. The confessional was empty, reminding him that it had been too long since he'd last confessed his sins. He could seek absolution except that he intended to break another Commandment – Thou shalt not kill.

At the first row of benches he stopped, sat and bowed his head in prayer. He didn't blame God for Adele's death. How could he when he believed in a merciful deity. It was the evil of one man who had ended her life prematurely. He prayed for her immortal soul and for the strength to avenge her death. It would be easy to blunder into a confrontation with Richelieu. That would be a reckless act that would accomplish nothing. The thought didn't diminish his thirst for blood; an eye for eye as the Bible said. It crossed his mind briefly that there were many contradictions in the Church's teachings but he quickly put that thought aside to concentrate on his present situation.

When he looked up and made the sign of the cross he saw Father Nicolas kneeling by the chancel rail. Aramis walked over to join the priest, his footsteps heavy. He waited patiently until the elderly man finished his own prayers before he spoke. "Where is she?"

"In the Sacristy. I didn't want to leave her out here for the curious to gaze upon." Father Nicolas caught his sleeve. "Are you sure about this? I can have the coffin sealed. You don't have to see what they did to her."

"Yes, I do, Father." This was his penance and he wasn't prepared to turn aside.

The smell of decay filled the air in the tiny room behind the Church. Aramis held a handkerchief over his nose, approached the simple wooden coffin and steeled himself for what awaited him. Adele's body was wrapped in rose-colored satin. He recognized it as one of her cloaks. She'd worn it the last time they'd met in the Luxembourg Gardens. They'd made passionate love among the pear trees after which he'd again tried to persuade her to leave the Cardinal. The delicate material was now torn and stained.

His hand shook when he reached over to uncover her face. Not even his imagination, driven by years serving in the King's wars, could prepare him for the sight of a beautiful young woman brutally cut down in her prime. The top half of her face was ruined but worse was the damage wrought by the passage of time and scavenging animals. Hanks of hair had been pulled out. Her eyes were gone, the sockets staring blindly at him. Lips drew back from her teeth in a grotesque grin. The blood, dirt and larva of the insects that would have taken up residence in her bloated body had been carefully and thoroughly washed away but nothing could hide the fact that her body was ruined and decaying.

"Thank you, Father." He covered her face. Now that he'd seen her he was trying unsuccessfully to remember her as she had been. "You at least have treated her with honor."

"Come, Aramis. Your friends will be waiting."

Aramis brushed his hand over the satin in a final loving caress before leaving that place of death to plot his revenge.

TMTMTM

Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan fell quiet when Aramis and Father Nicolas joined them in the priest's small home. Since their arrival d'Artagnan had been pacing impatiently to the point where Athos was considering punching him just to make him stay still. He and Porthos sat, no less edgy; just better at hiding it. Ale, wine, bread, cheese and ham filled the table although none of them had eaten anything. Aramis grabbed a bottle of wine, poured a generous amount and drank deeply.

"Are you alright?" Athos asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

There were multiple answers that could be given to that question. Athos decided to accept the evasion, however. It wasn't the right time to push his friend and he was afraid Aramis would never acknowledge the full depth of his grief without careful handling. "Thank you for your hospitality, Father." He pushed a plate laden with fresh-baked bread and meat toward Aramis. "Eat."

After taking one mouthful, Aramis returned his attention to the wine. He hadn't once looked any of them in the eye since entering the room.

The three friends exchanged worried glances. It wasn't like Aramis to bury his feelings in strong drink.

"How did you know to send word to Aramis?" d'Artagnan asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Her last words were of him."

The glass slipped from Aramis' fingers and shattered on the floor. Red wine soaked the rushes like a spreading pool of blood. "You were there?" he asked with a dangerous note in his voice.

"There was a witness but it wasn't me. A local man, Denis Leclair, was hunting in the woods…"

"Poaching," Porthos said.

"Yes," Father Nicolas admitted. "It was a hard winter and sometimes a man is driven to desperate measures to feed his family."

"Where is he?" Aramis demanded. "I want to talk to him. Why didn't he try to save her? Why leave her to rot…?" His voice roughened and caught on a hiccupping breath.

"He's dead. He was caught with the carcass of a deer and hanged. When making his last confession he told me what he had seen and gave me leave to talk about it. Despite his crime he was a good man but what he saw that day frightened him. It was on his conscience that he had left her body to lie in the woods. He said she'd declared her love for someone+ called Aramis and begged me to find that man."

"Did he tell you who killed Adele?" Athos asked.

"He saw a coach but not who was inside. It was accompanied by soldiers and it was one of them who fired the fatal shot. He described the uniform. It was very distinctive and something I have saw often in Paris."

"Red Guard," Aramis whispered. "Who else could it have been?"

"You know you can't kill the Cardinal," Athos said, even though he wouldn't have blamed Aramis for trying.

"I can kill the man who murdered her."

"You don't know who it was and he was only following orders," Porthos said.

"Any man who can shoot a defenceless woman doesn't deserve to live."

"You should leave vengeance for this crime to God, my son," Nicolas said, sounding concerned by the turn the conversation had taken.

"Not this time, Father."

"How do we find out who was with the Cardinal that day?" d'Artagnan queried. "We can't exactly go round asking people."

"When he's doing something sneaky he only has three or four men with him. There will be a record," Aramis said.

"Kept in the office of the Captain of the Red Guard," Athos pointed out. "If you try to get in there you might as well paint a target on your back."

"What we need," Aramis said contemplatively, "is a diversion."

Tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Vengeance is Mine**

**Chapter Four**

"Why do I have to do it?" d'Artagnan asked with a hint of petulance. "I'm not a Musketeer."

"Precisely," Porthos said, fastening a nondescript brown cloak around d'Artagnan's neck. "You won't be recognized. Any Musketeer walking into the garrison of the Red Guard would have to be feeling suicidal." He crammed a shapeless hat onto the younger man's head and stood back to admire his handiwork. "Now you look like a beggar not a Musketeer in training."

The pout left d'Artagnan's face. "You think I'm good enough to become a Musketeer?"

"Not yet. That's where the training comes in. You don't think we're wasting our time teaching you everything we know because we like you?" Porthos' grin took the sting out of his words. D'Artagnan was far too intense for his own good and Porthos had made it his personal mission to force the young man to see the lighter side of life.

"All you're teaching me is how to get killed by the Cardinal's guard," d'Artagnan said gloomily.

"Is he ready?" Athos walked slowly around the young man, nodding. "Even your mother wouldn't recognize you."

"If I get caught I won't be happy."

"If you get caught you'll be dead."

"That's what I mean." D'Artagnan checked that his knife was secure in its sheath and that the pistol hidden under the cloak was loaded and ready. "Why can't I take my sword?"

"Beggars don't carry swords and they aren't easy to hide. We've been over this," Athos said with as much patience as he could muster. "Now, off you go. Stay out of sight until the fun starts."

D'Artagnan looked over toward the wagon carrying Adele's coffin. Aramis was sitting on the bench seat, holding the reins of the horses and staring into the distance with a distracted look on his face. "Will he be alright?"

"He'll do his job," Athos said.

"Don't worry about him," Porthos added. "Aramis knows how much is at stake. He'll play his part when the time comes. We'll see you later."

"I hope so." D'Artagnan mounted his horse, gave a mock salute and rode away.

**TMTTM**

Aramis stopped the wagon outside the main door leading to Richelieu's wing of the palace. "We're here to see the Cardinal," he told the guards.

"He's busy." One of the guards walked forward and peered curiously into the wagon. "That looks like a coffin."

"You have to admit they pick them for their brains," Athos said snidely. "Of course it's a coffin."

"What's it doing here?"

"That's the Cardinal's business, not yours. Why don't you run off and tell him." Aramis tightened his grip on the reins, causing the horses to stamp their feet uneasily. He forced his fingers to relax even though his nerves were taut.

"I don't take orders from Musketeers."

"I suggest you make an exception before my friend loses his temper," Athos said. "The coffin contains the body of Adele Bessatt. I think the Cardinal would want to know that his mistress has been murdered."

"You killed her?" the guard asked suspiciously.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You know what, Athos? I think we got the dumb one," Porthos said. "Does he really think we'd kill her and then bring her body here?"

"Just fetch the Cardinal," Aramis said.

The guard turned to his companion. "You'd better tell His Eminence."

While they waited Aramis jumped down from the wagon and used a crowbar to loosen the nails holding down the lid of the coffin. "Forgive me, my love," he whispered. "I'm sorry I have to use you like this but it's the only way."

Richelieu kept them waiting while the sun made its slow journey across the sky. When he finally appeared he looked only mildly interested. "Make this quick. I have important matters to attend to."

"You bastard," Aramis shouted. "Can't you even spare five minutes to say good-bye to Adele?"

"Adele? What are you talking about?"

"Looks like your man didn't have the guts to tell you why we're here," Porthos said. "Take a look in the wagon, Cardinal."

Aramis pulled the lid down and folded back the material covering Adele's ruined face. He stepped back, watching the Cardinal with unsettling intensity. Richelieu glanced at the coffin before stumbling backwards, his face ashen.

"What happened to her?"

"You know damn well what happened. You're the one who ordered her death," Aramis said, gripping the hilt of his sword. "You found out she was in love with me and you couldn't bear the thought of being cuckolded." His voice rose in volume and the two guards moved closer to their master. "You left her body in the forest. Do you want to see what damage was done by scavengers and carrion? Do you?"

"Calm down, Aramis." Athos caught his friend's sleeve. "You can't go around accusing a man like the Cardinal of murder."

Aramis shook his arm free. "I'll do more than accuse him. I'm taking this to the King." In his agitation he drew his sword a few inches from its scabbard.

"Fetch reinforcements," Richelieu shouted. "And send someone for Captain Treville." He turned his attention to Athos. "Control your friend or I'll order his arrest and court martial."

"You hear that?" Porthos asked. "That sounds to me like a man with a guilty conscience."

"Yes, it does," Athos said. "Maybe Aramis has a point."

The sound of hurried footsteps heralded the arrival of a dozen Red Guard led by their Captain, Verdun. "Do you want us to take care of these Musketeers for you, Milord?"

"Take them into custody until Treville arrives. And, get rid of that." He pointed toward the coffin.

"Give her a decent burial," Aramis pleaded. They were badly outnumbered and the plan had never included the shedding of blood. He let two of the Cardinal's guard disarm him, hoping that d'Artagnan was taking advantage of the distraction to find the roster of men who had been with the Cardinal on the day Adele disappeared.

"She was a whore," Richelieu said dismissively. "She'll be lucky to be buried in a pauper's grave."

The callous disregard for the woman who had shared his bed ignited Aramis' temper. Without a thought for the consequences he wrenched his sword from the hand of his guard and lunged at the Cardinal.

"Aramis! Don't." Athos ran to put himself between Aramis and the Cardinal, barely avoiding being skewered by his friend. "Give up your sword. My Lord Cardinal, as you can see Aramis was infatuated with Adele. I would humbly ask that you leave the arrangements for her burial in our hands."

"Do what you like with her," Richelieu said, his voice unsteady. "Just keep him away from me."

Aramis threw his sword on the ground. "If you were a gentleman I'd challenge you to a dual."

"If you want to keep your head I suggest that you stop talking. Captain, lock them up and send Treville to me the minute he arrives."

TMTMTM

"That went well," Athos said drily. They were confined in one of the empty rooms on the upper level of the palace. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust which made his nose twitch. He sneezed.

Aramis had taken up a position by the window. "Running the Cardinal through with my sword would have been a better result."

"Never going to happen, Aramis. Did you see the look on his face though? I've never seen him so scared. He really thought you would do it." Porthos slid down to sit with his back against the wall.

"I would have killed him if I'd been given the chance."

"Then you're a bigger fool than I thought," Athos said in disgust. "You would have been cut down or else arrested and executed by order of the King. That doesn't help get justice for Adele."

"Killing Richelieu is all the justice I need. After that, nothing else matters."

"It isn't justice to kill an unarmed man. It only makes you as bad as he is."

Aramis swung round to confront Athos. "How can you say that?"

"You're not thinking clearly. It's understandable. Let me explain. What you're talking about is vengeance, not justice. Finding the man who pulled the trigger and challenging him is one thing. Murdering the Cardinal in cold blood is something else. Our most valuable possession is our honor. Don't besmirch yours by giving in to this impossible impulse."

The sound of the key turning forestalled Aramis' response. Porthos stood to join his companions as Captain Treville walked into the room.

"What in hell's name do you think you were doing? No! Don't answer that. I don't want to know. You're all lucky that the King and Queen are away from the palace. If Louis had been here during your theatrics he'd have had you flogged…or worse."

Athos checked that none of the Cardinal's guards were in earshot before speaking. "It was a ruse. We had to create a situation to give d'Artagnan time to…"

"Time to do what? I gave you time to bring Mademoiselle Adele's body home for burial. Not start a war with the Red Guard."

"It was all for show," Athos said.

"That's not what the Cardinal said. He said that you," Treville pointed at Aramis, "tried to kill him. That's as close to treason as it gets. He's First Minister to the King of France for heaven's sake."

"You're shouting," Athos said mildly. "That isn't going to help."

"Besides, if Aramis had intended to gut the Cardinal he'd have done it," Porthos added. "Even a dozen Red Guard wouldn't have stopped him."

"Do you think I could speak for myself?" Aramis asked. "I'm sorry, Captain. I'll admit that things got a little out of hand. I'm over it now and it won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't. Richelieu wants to send you away to join the patrol along the frontier with Spain. I've talked him out of it for now but if there is any further trouble I won't be able to protect you. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir." Aramis bowed his head submissively. Although anger still churned in his gut he knew better than to push the Captain any further.

"Good." Treville looked round the room. "Where's d'Artagnan. Don't tell me you managed to keep him out of this fiasco."

"Um, not exactly. We were hoping he was back at the garrison," Athos admitted.

"Well, he isn't. I haven't seen him since yesterday."

"He should have been back by now," Porthos said worriedly. "You don't think anything's happened to him, do you?"

"Why would something…Please tell me he isn't mixed up in this!"

"Yes, well, you see, Captain, we were just the distraction. It was d'Artagnan's job to seach Verdun's office."

"You never cease to amaze me, Aramis. I can't think of a single good reason for doing something so monumentally stupid."

"I assure you were had our reasons," Athos said. "What worries me is that he seems to be missing. That is very bad news."

Tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Vengeance is Mine**

**Chapter Five**

D'Artagnan cowered uncomfortably under Captain Verdun's oversize desk. The Captain of the Red Guards had returned sooner than expected, almost catching him in the act of rifling through papers and ledgers. It had only been a matter of moments before that's he'd found what he was looking for. There had been no more than a few seconds to find a hiding place. Fear of discovery caused his heart to hammer so loudly that he couldn't understand why Verdun wasn't able to hear it. He'd lost track of time and had been in this awkward position long enough for the muscles in his legs to start cramping. There seemed no end to his ordeal in sight.

"Treville of the Musketeers is here to see you, Captain."

The unknown voice brought news that d'Artagnan hoped was good. By now his friends must be worried about him. Would they confide in Treville and would the Captain risk complicity to help him escape?

"Tell him to come in."

D'Artagnan almost groaned, having hoped that Verdun would leave his office to talk to Treville.

There were footsteps on the wooden floor. "Captain Verdun, I've come to apologise for the behaviour of my men," Treville said.

A chair scraped across the floor and d'Artagnan found himself with a close view of Treville's boots when the Captain sat down. Treville stretched out a leg almost hitting d'Artagnan in the face. He wasn't entirely convinced that it was accidental.

"Those three are trouble," Verdun said. "I'm surprised the King hasn't stripped them of their commissions."

"They're the best soldiers in the Regiment. Granted they seem adept at finding trouble but I'd rather have them at my back in a fight than anyone else."

"You're getting soft, Treville. Lack of discipline is a dangerous thing."

"I didn't come to fight," Treville said, although there was a sharp edge to his voice. "I've come with a peace offering." There was the sound of a bottle hitting the top of the desk. "Brandy from His Majesty's private store. I hoped you'd share a couple of glasses with me and agree to put today's events behind us."

"The Cardinal seems inclined to overlook the action of your men so I don't see any harm in doing the same."

"It's a lovely afternoon. Why don't we take this out to the yard and enjoy the sun while we have it. It's been a long winter," Treville suggested smoothly.

"My old bones could use some warmth and it'd be a welcome excuse to get away from all this paperwork."

Soon all d'Artagnan could hear was the irregular beating of his heart. Even once he was satisfied that he was alone it still took several minutes before he could coax his unresponsive muscles to move. He sidled over to the door and opened it no more than a couple of inches. Verdun sat at a table, his back turned. Treville met d'Artagnan's fearful stare before pointedly looking away. It didn't take much imagination to know that there would be trouble in his future. He prayed silently that this escapade hadn't cost him his chance of a commission in the Regiment.

He waited for several minutes while soldiers passed back and forth across the yard. As soon as it was clear he darted out of the office and round the side of the building. By keeping to the shadows he managed to get close to the gate. After ensuring that the cloak and hat concealed his features he stepped into view and walked out of the garrison with all the confidence of a man who belonged there.

TMTMTM

After their release from custody the Musketeers had been banished to their garrison under strict orders to remain there. It had come as a surprise that Treville was prepared to try and aid d'Artagnan particularly as the young man had no formal connection to the Regiment. While Aramis obsessively cleaned all his firearms Athos and Porthos settled down to wait with mugs of ale to keep them company.

"Here he is," Athos said.

Aramis immediately abandoned his labours to stride over to d'Artagnan. "We thought that you'd been caught." He squeezed the younger man's shoulder in a gesture of relief and solidarity.

"Almost. Treville provided the distraction that let me escape."

"Do you have the names?" Aramis asked.

"Yes." D'Artagnan sat beside Athos and poured some ale. "There were three of them with the Cardinal on the day Adele disappeared."

"The day she was murdered," Aramis said flatly.

D'Artagnan drank deeply before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "Their names are Fabre, Lambert and Moreau. Do you know them?"

Aramis looked at Athos and Porthos, his expression one of hopeful excitement. "Moreau."

"Almost certainly," Athos said. "He's the Cardinal's favourite attack dog. He wouldn't lose a minute's sleep over killing a woman."

"What about the others?" D'Artagnan asked.

"All the Cardinal's guards follow orders. They might not like it but none will ever turn on him. They are fanatically loyal," Athos explained.

"Working for the most powerful man in France is a sure route to success," Porthos added.

"I thought the King was the most powerful man in France."

"Don't be naïve, d'Artagnan. The King is nothing more than the Cardinal's puppet," Athos said. "I don't think Louis has ever had an original thought. He's spent his life being manipulated by his mother and then by Richelieu when Marie de Medici fell out of favour."

"She tried to stage a coup," Porthos said blandly. "She was lucky to keep her head."

"Gentlemen, we are moving away from the topic at hand," Aramis said.

"So, what happens now?"

"Now, d'Artagnan, I find him and challenge him to a duel."

"Won't he go running to the Cardinal?"

"I won't give him the chance. This ends today."

"Are you sure about this, Aramis? We might have it all wrong," Porthos said, worry creasing his brow.

"You saw how the Cardinal reacted." Aramis removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair in agitation.

"That doesn't make him guilty," Porthos persisted. "It could just have been the shock."

"I think Porthos is playing devil's advocate, my friend, but he has made a valid point. Think about what you're planning to do. The penalty for duelling is death if you're caught and Richelieu is certain to notice Moreau's absence rather quickly." Athos knew that his plea would be in vain but felt duty bound to try to induce his friend to give up his suicidal pursuit.

"He won't dare take issue with it," Aramis asserted. "He'll understand the message."

"Maybe so." Athos didn't look entirely convinced. "Are you sure we can't persuade you to change your mind." He met Aramis' heated stare. "I see that we can't. Then, we should go before Treville gets back."

"The Captain told us to stay here," Porthos said. "We're risking a lot if we leave."

"We're risking our commissions and, possibly, our lives. Are you going to let that stop you?" Athos asked.

Porthos grinned fiercely. "Hell, no!"

Aramis laid an arm across Athos' shoulder and gripped Porthos' hand. "There are no words to express my gratitude." His restless gaze touched d'Artagnan. "And you, my young friend, have proved yourself worthy of being a Musketeer. I only hope you get the chance."

D'Artagnan bowed his head to hide his embarrassment at receiving the highest compliment of all. "Where do we find this man?"

"The Red Guard all drink in a tavern near their barracks. If he isn't there now he will be later," Aramis asserted.

"We won't be welcome," Porthos said.

"Good." Aramis touched the hilt of his sword. "Because I'm just in the mood for a fight."

Tbc


	6. Chapter 6

**Vengeance Is Mine**

**Chapter Six**

The entrance to the inappropriately named Le Soleil tavern was in a narrow alley which the sun never penetrated. Aramis and his three comrades waited on a corner diagonally across the street, waiting. Laundry hanging from ropes strung between the buildings swayed gently in the breeze. The high pitched wail of a young baby could be heard from a room in the upper storey. Men passing by looked suspiciously at the heavily armed Musketeers and quickened their steps. Women eyed them appraisingly before deciding that there were less dangerous marks to be found. The whole squalid area stank of poverty and desparation.

After a few minutes a young boy darted out of the tavern doorway and slid to a halt in front of Aramis. His bare feet squelched in the mud and his under-nourished body, clad only in thin rags, shook in the chill of the early evening air.

"He is there, Monsieur," he said.

"How many others?" Aramis asked.

The boy looked up at him through the strands of unruly hair and shrugged his thin shoulders. "Many," he said uncertainly.

Aramis drew a coin from his pocket and threw it up into the air. The boy watched it hungrily before his hand shot out to capture it. "Merci," he said, his fingers closing tightly around his prize.

"Go," Aramis advised. "Buy some food for your family." He watched with a feeling of profound sorrow as the child run down the noxious alley.

"You can't save them all," Athos said, knowing instinctively what was going through Aramis' mind.

"At least one will eat well tonight," Aramis replied. He crossed the street, hesitating when he reached the door. "You don't have to do this. There's no sense in all of us getting arrested."

Athos laid a hand on Aramis' shoulder. "Do you really think we'd let you go in alone? Your fight is our fight. That is what it means to be a Musketeer."

"You've got that right," Porthos said.

"We're all in this together," d'Artagnan added.

"Thank you, my friends."

"Porthos, you and d'Artagnan wait out here. Discourage any of Moreau's friends from joining him," Athos instructed.

When Aramis opened the door a blast of malodorous air slapped him in the face. "Delightful," he murmured. "Why couldn't he drink in a better class of tavern?"

"It fits with his personality," Athos said. "Dark, unfriendly and lethal."

It took a few seconds for Aramis' vision to adjust to the dim light inside the building. His shoulder was jostled by one of the Cardinal's men who spat on the floor in front of his boots.

"Musketeer scum," the man said before lurching away.

"That almost hurts my feelings," Aramis said. He looked around the room until he saw Moreau. The Red Guard sat alone even though there were at least eight others from his regiment clustered around tables nearby. Aramis made his slow way around the tables and chairs with Athos right behind him. "Mind if we sit down?" he asked when he reached Moreau. Without waiting for a response he pulled out a chair and sat opposite the man who had killed Adele.

"What do you want?" Moreau took a deep drink of his beer, using his forearm to wipe the foam from his moustache.

Aramis leaned back, seemingly perfectly at ease. It was all an act. His stomach churned violently and his fingers twitched in anticipation. He studied his prey noting the lank dark brown hair, small eyes and cruel twist to the lips. "I want to talk to you about Adele Bessatt."

"Who?" Moreau finished his beer and gestured for another. "Oh, yes, the Cardinal's whore."

"She was no whore," Aramis said angrily.

"Don't listen to him," Athos advised. "He's trying to bait you. He knows perfectly well why we're here."

"I heard you delivered her carcass to Richelieu earlier today." Moreau slapped the arse of the tavern wench who brought him a fresh tankard. "I'd have liked to see his face. He prefers to work his deadly schemes from a safe distance."

"You killed her," Aramis accused.

"What if I did? No-one's going to do anything about it."

Aramis' jaw tightened. "I'm going to do something. If you've got any guts you'll face me in a duel."

"Duelling's illegal," Moreau said. "Why would I risk everything to make you feel better? If you'd stayed away from her bed she'd still be alive." He looked at Aramis' belt. "I see you got your pistol back. How do you feel knowing it was used to kill her?"

"You bastard." Aramis lunged across the table. His fingers were only an inch from Moreau's throat when Athos hauled him back and restrained him.

"Take it easy," Athos said, keeping hold of Aramis' arm. He turned to Moreau. "My friend has challenged you to a duel. Are you really too much of a coward to face him?"

Moreau laughed. "I'm no coward and I don't have to prove myself to any man. Get out of here. You're not welcome."

Athos looked around the room. All the other patrons were watching them with unfriendly interest. "I think he's right, Aramis."

"I'm not leaving."

Moreau stood up, his eyes glittering with amusement. "You can walk out of here or be carried out in pieces. It's your choice."

Aramis lurched to his feet, anger overriding common sense. He began to draw his sword until Athos forced his hand away from the hilt.

"We should leave."

Moreau leaned over and grabbed the front of Aramis' shirt, pulling him closer. "Luxembourg Gardens at dawn," he said softly. He pushed Aramis roughly away and turned his back.

"Come on," Athos said, hauling Aramis away. "You got what you came for," he whispered. "If he wants to keep it quiet it's better for us."

Aramis' furious gaze swept over his friend. "We could finish it now."

"We could," Athos agreed. "And, most likely someone would alert the Cardinal. Isn't it better to get your revenge in private and walk away?"

"She deserves better."

"Enough!" Athos rarely used the tone with which he had ordered his guards and servants as a son of the nobility. He couldn't recall a time it had ever been directed at one of his friends but Aramis was close to being out of control. "Think, Aramis. Would Adele want you to give up your life to avenge her?"

"You heard what he said. It's my fault she's dead." Aramis' breathing was heavy and uneven. He'd come seeking an ending and wouldn't easily be thwarted.

"If we are caught brawling with the Cardinal's guard we risk the death penalty and there is no guarantee Moreau will suffer the same fate. Face him in the morning away from the eyes of those who could betray us. Whatever weapon he chooses you know your skill will be greater." He continued to edge his friend closer toward the door. "It's only a few hours," he added reasonably.

"We can't trust him."

"He'll be there," Athos said with certainty. "He believes your feelings for Adele will make you careless."

Aramis stopped resisting the attempt to move him away from imminent danger. "It is my passion that will end his life."

"And we will all be there to back you up. Come, Aramis. Dawn will be here soon enough."

"You're a good friend," Aramis said by way of apology. "Tomorrow at dawn Adele will finally know peace."

They backed out of the tavern to find Porthos and d'Artagnan with their swords drawn and their backs to the wall. Three Red Guard faced them, their own weapons in hand.

"Any trouble?" Athos asked.

"Nothing we couldn't handle," Porthos responded. "You?"

"Much the same."

"Moreau?" d'Artagnan asked.

"We'll tell you later." Athos stepped out into the street to face their adversaries. "Gentlemen, I apologise for keeping you from your ale. It was a matter of honour that has now been resolved."

The three men looked uncertainly at each other but none seemed inclined to start a fight. Athos gave them a small bow and began walking away making sure that Aramis was close at hand. He wasn't going to risk allowing his hot-headed friend out of his sight.

Porthos quickly caught up. "Well?"

"Moreau as good as admitted that we were right to suspect him. He put on a good show but he's agreed to meet Aramis at dawn."

"So it'll soon be over," d'Artagnan said.

"No," Aramis responded. "It'll never be over while the Cardinal lives."

Tbc


	7. Chapter 7

This is the final chapter. I am grateful for the reviews and to those who followed this story. I hope you will check out my other Musketeer story – Past the Point of Rescue.

**Vengeance is Mine**

**Chapter Seven**

Aramis spent the early part of the night in contemplation, reminiscing about his time with Adele. They had taken every opportunity to meet. One of his most recent and tender memories were of the afternoon they had spent at the Luxembourg Gardens. It was fitting that he would slay her murderer in the place where they had been happiest.

They'd met in secret at the Medici Fountain. It was typical of the conceit of the King's mother that she should have a fountain named for her. The Gardens had been her project; an attempt to create a little piece of Paris that reminded her of her home in Florence. It was pristine parkland frequented by many of the nobles and well-to-do artisans and tradesmen. The feeling of tranquility provided an oasis hidden from the squalor and poverty in which most people lived.

Water from the fountain filled a long basin edged by a low balustrade and shaded by plane trees. Aramis had been happy that the seemingly ever-present rain had ceased, turning the day bright with sunshine. They had daringly lain under the trees wrapped in his cloak to make long slow love, knowing that they could be discovered at any time. That danger had been the spice that made the day so memorable. Adele had been passionate and he'd carried the marks from her nails for days afterwards.

As the hours passed slowly he also finally admitted the truth of their relationship. She had been a charming companion, an enthusiastic lover and it had given him satisfaction to know that he was cuckolding the Cardinal. He had been fond of her, but on his part there hadn't been love. It made his guilt harder to bear. Feelings of self-loathing threatened his tenuous composure.

In the darkest part of the night he lit candles and cleaned his pistol. Once that was completed to his satisfaction he turned his attention to his sword. The choice of weapon lay with Moreau. He would ensure that he was ready for any eventuality. When he opened the door an hour before daybreak he found his three friends waiting for him. The warmth of their presence and support suffused him, helping to calm his uneasy soul.

The ride to the Luxembourg Gardens was accomplished in silence. They stayed away from the well-tended lawns and flowerbeds. Duels were fought in the more secluded confines of the orchard. The buds were just starting to appear on the apple and pear trees. Soon there would be a riot of pink and white blossom as spring crept once more over the land, displacing the chill of winter. At this early hour the air was still icy and the ground was covered with frost. It would make the footing treacherous if Moreau decided they should fight with swords. The darkness began to dissipate in the east although the sun was not yet showing above the horizon. Aramis murmured a brief prayer and crossed himself, feeling a sense of peace settle over his mind.

"Ready?" Porthos asked.

"I've been ready since we received news of Adele's murder."

"Remember that there's no shame in playing dirty," Porthos added. "The point of a duel is to win, not behave like a gentleman."

"This isn't my first duel," Aramis reminded him.

"I know but you have a nasty habit of relying too much on your honour. Moreau will take advantage of that."

"Trust me, my friend. I fight for Adele's honour, not my own."

"Here he comes," Athos said.

Moreau only had one man with him. He reined in his horse and dismounted, walking confidently to meet the Musketeers.

"This duel will be fought under the normal code of chivalry," Athos said, even though he knew that neither combatant would heed his words. This was a fight to the finish and a man will do anything to escape the cold arms of death. "Since Aramis issued the challenge you have the right to choose the weapon."

"Pistols." Moreau's smile showed his yellowing uneven teeth. "Seems fitting."

"It does indeed," Aramis said. "It means I can kill you with the same weapon you used on Adele."

"Stand back to back and take twenty paces," Athos instructed. "Moreau will fire first when I give the word."

D'Artagnan tugged at Porthos' arm. "How likely it Aramis to survive the first shot?"

"It's fifty-fifty at that range," Porthos said bleakly.

Athos counted the steps out loud. "Nineteen…twenty. Turn and fire in your own time."

Aramis turned part way so that he stood sideways on to his opponent. He held his pistol at the ready and took three steadying breaths. He raised his head to stare steadily at Moreau. The Red Guard lifted his arm, pointing his pistol directly at Aramis. He pulled the trigger and there was the sound of the bullet leaving the barrel. Aramis tensed before hissing in pain when the bullet ploughed across his right upper arm. Despite the pain his aim was steady when it came his turn to shoot. He consciously relaxed his shoulders, took a deep breath and fired. His bullet caught Moreau in the side. To his frustration it wasn't a fatal wound.

"Honour has been satisfied," Athos said in the vain hope that the combatants would declare the fight a draw.

"To hell with honour," Moreau shouted. His face was lined with pain and the move to draw his sword was clumsy. "Let's finish this."

"With pleasure," Aramis said. His arm wasn't entirely steady as he drew his own weapon but he knew he had taken the less severe would thus giving him the advantage.

Moreau ran toward him. Aramis raised his sword to salute his opponent before moving gracefully forward. The first clash of steel reverberated around the orchard. They disengaged and began to circle warily seeking an opening. When Moreau lunged again Aramis was ready to meet the blow. For less than a minute they fenced with each other, appearing evenly matched. When Moreau stepped back Aramis sensed that the wound was troubling him. He could see a dark patch of wet blood seeping through the man's jacket. The wound in his own arm burned painfully but he pushed it aside to concentrate on his next move.

He began to move forward, eager to finish the fight. His left foot slid on a patch of ice and he fell to one knee. Moreau immediately sprang forward, driving his sword toward Aramis' face. He blocked the blow, reached behind his back and pulled his knife from its sheath. With a twist of his shoulder he buried the blade in Moreau's gut and twisted.

The Red Guard howled in agony and the strength left his sword arm. Aramis pushed and Moreau staggered backwards to fall to the ground clutching his belly. After climbing wearily to his feet Aramis went to stand over the man who had killed Adele.

"The wound is fatal," he said. "It will be slow and painful and I wouldn't wish that on any man. Do you want me to finish it?"

Moreau was beyond the ability to speak but he gave a brief nod.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Athos asked his friend.

"I'm sure." Aramis positioned his sword over Moreau's heart and thrust downwards. He waited to feel the exultation that he'd expected but found he only felt exhausted.

"It was a fair fight," Athos said to Moreau's companion.

"Agreed," the man said. "I'll take him back to our garrison. You know I have to tell the Cardinal?"

"Of course. We wouldn't expect anything else." Athos walked back to his friends. "We should get back. I'm sure word will reach Treville soon."

"How do you feel?" d'Artagnan asked Aramis.

"There is a void inside me. I'd hoped to fill it with Moreau's death."

"Justice has been served," Athos said. "The rest will come in time."

TMTMTM

The Cardinal was working at his desk when the smell of jasmine announced the arrival of his pet assassin. He signed his name on the document in front of him and picked up a red candle to drip wax beside his signature. After removing his signet ring he pressed it into the warm wax to affix his seal. He looked up to find Milady de Winter watching him with the hint of a smirk. It appeared she was becoming a little too complacent and he made a mental note to warn her against incurring his displeasure. "You are familiar with the Countess Ninon de Larroque?"

Milday sneered. "The woman who believes in female education? She's doing her acolytes no favours," she said dismissively. "What man wants a wife who knows more than he does?"

"Is that why you never married? Too clever for any normal man to handle?" The Cardinal asked snidely. He saw her expression become blank but not before there was a flash of something unexpected…yearning. Clearly Milady was keeping a few secrets of her own.

"You have no idea of my past, Cardinal," she said coolly.

"I know I picked you out of the gutter and that I own you, body and blackened soul."

"You have made that very clear. What is it you want from me?"

"I want the Countess' money," he said bluntly. "She is obscenely rich and what does she do with it? She wastes it on silly little girls. I have a much better use for it. Get close to her and find a way for me to take it from her…for the good of France, of course."

"Of course," she murmured, hiding her disdain.

There was a brief knock on the door. "Come," he called. A member of his Guard approached and spoke softly before bowing and leaving the room.

"Is there a problem?" Milady asked.

"No. For once those meddlesome Musketeers have done me a favour. Aramis killed one of my men in a duel this morning."

"Not something to be happy about or am I missing something?" she asked.

"He was the one who killed Adele on my orders. She was having an affair with Aramis and became a little too indiscrete. Now that Moreau is dead there is no chance of any rumours reaching the King."

"A fortuitous event," she said. "If only all deaths were as welcome. Is there anything else you need?"

"Only for you to do your job."

"Have I ever failed you?"

"The day you fail me is the day you stop being of use. Ingratiate yourself with Ninon and report back. There has to be some way to blacken her name."

"It shall be done."

TMTMTM

The grass was damp and soft under his hand. The sound of the water running sedately over the small rocks of the river bed was almost musical and soporific. Adele's grave was under the shade of a willow tree and dappled in the early morning sunlight. Aramis finished positioning the cross with her name carved upon it. He sat back on his heels, the wound in his arm no more than a dull ache, reminding him of the vengeance enacted upon her murderer. Birds sang in the trees, happily greeting the new day. He was not so sanguine. Adele's true killer remained unpunished and he made a silent vow to make the Cardinal pay one day for his treachery.

Aramis took hold of the cross given to him by the Queen and raised it to his lips in benediction. He pushed to his feet, turning away from the sight that wrenched his heart. His three friends awaited him, far enough away to give him privacy and close enough for him to feel the strength of their support. With firm steps he walked away knowing that he had left a small piece of his heart behind.

"Are you alright?" Athos asked.

"Yes." Aramis flashed a mischievous grin. "Let's go back to Paris and see what trouble we can cause for the Cardinal."

The End.


End file.
